


Rules of Engagement

by LamiaCalls



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Biting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Light Dom/sub, Pining, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiaCalls/pseuds/LamiaCalls
Summary: Hux is trying not to let his emotions intrude on something purely sexual.He's failing, badly.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96
Collections: Flash With Benefits





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wiccy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiccy/gifts).



Hux doesn’t know what he expected, when he left with Poe and Finn and Chewie. Not sure what he expected, after things had settled but he was living on a base.

Certainly, months later, he didn’t expect to be on his knees, Rose Tico’s hand on the back of his head, using her grip on his hair to move him to better service her. And this wasn’t exactly the first time.

It had started due to too many Bakuran bitters at the makeshift bar. It had ended in her bed.

It had been a mistake, they’d agreed when they met again, shame-faced, the next day. And now it was a mistake that just kept seeming to happen.

Hux finds it hard to complain — not just because his mouth was busy, but because…well.

He has rules, anyway. To keep it under control. He isn’t, for instance, allowed to look up at her. Because then he’s looking at the soft lines of her breasts, the impossible curve of her neck cocked back, her face barely visible as those little noises came out of her, perfect and—

 _No_. He snaps his eyes shut. That was off-limits.

They don’t even like each other. He issn’t allowed to have these kind of feelings. Besides, he isn’t the kind of person who was even capable of such feelings.

He slides one of the arms he was using to keep her upright out from around her hip, plunges his fingers into her. It’s messy and awkward, and he wasn’t very good at first. But she’s taught him what she likes, and he is learning. He’s always been a fast learner.

The uptick of moans from him fingerfucking her is enough to distract him from any niggling feelings. But they don’t make it any easier to ignore the throbbing of his erection, pressed tight against his trousers. That was a rule of her own creation: he wasn’t allowed to touch himself unless she said so. He liked her rules better than his own, even if he would never tell her that.

“Hux,” she says, and it’s a throaty, guttural sound, a sound he wants to both savour and shut out.

She only says his name when she’s getting close. Her fingers twist tighter in his hair and he lets out a little gasps before he sets himself back to work, his mouth working diligently at her clit, fingers fucking into her wetness.

She comes, shuddering, above him, pussy clenching around his fingers. It’s a glorious sound, the moan she lets out, and it goes straight to his dick. He slows down his efforts, licks and nibbles at her lightly, the way he knows she likes. After a few moments, she relinquishes her hold on his head, and he stands up, wiping his mouth.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she asks.

Whenever she swears, something goes through him. Her eyes are hooded as she regards him, her voice gravelly and low. He toys briefly with the idea of lying to her, but it would not be a productive lie. He clears his throat.

“Yes,” he says, trying to keep any emotion out his voice.

She quirks her lips, and he wants to kiss her, have her taste the remnants of herself round his mouth, moan into her, but he resists. She’s the only one who initiates the kisses. She doesn’t know about that rule, but it helps ensure that he doesn’t get too cosy with her. They are, after all, barely comrades, definitely not friends, and two million lightyears away from lovers.

“Get on the bed,” she says, nodding her head to it.

“Yes,” he says again, hates how thick his voice is with lust. He strips as he goes, quickly and messily and, he thinks, probably not very sexily at all. But Rose doesn’t seem to mind.

She comes over to the bed, and regards him. Nakedness is vulnerability, and he’s never been very good at that. It takes all his willpower not to cringe from her gaze. He can’t let Rose know this weakness of his — likely, she would be less interested in fucking him if she knew.

She strokes a hand up his thigh, and her fingers trail across his cock. His breath hitches and his cock, a mind of its own, twitches.

She’s always so eager for his mouth, and so tantalisingly, maddeningly slow when it comes to getting him off. He still doesn’t know how she worked out what he liked so easily.

Her soft thighs move over his as she straddles him, taking her time. She grips his cock, and slides it across her wetness. It’s an effort not to let a sound escape him, but the coy smile on her faces says she knows how it’s affecting him.

But it’s late and she clearly isn’t the mood to let it linger for as long as she usually does, instead pressing against the head of his cock, sliding onto it. She’s impossibly warm and wet and perfect around him and he hisses as she settles on the last inch, losing focus for a moment at the feel of her.

Rose rides him slowly at first, before she picks up the pace. Her breasts bounce with her, and he reaches up a hand to cup one, but she swats him away with a grin.

The sounds she’s making are lewd, and it’s hard for him to keep focus. It’s made only worse when she slows down, that dangerous glint in her eyes. She leans down, and bites hard at the soft skin in the crook of his neck. He gasps, hips bucking involuntarily. She’s smirking when she lets up, still moving slowly up and down his cock, and bends down again to bite into the soft flesh around his nipple. This time he grunts, hands twisting in the sheets at the exquisite pain of it. He’s pretty sure she’s broken skin but he can’t open his eyes to check.

The next thing he knows, the warmth of her mouth is over his, and his eyes flutter open — before he closes them again, to press into her, to, weak as he is, reach one hand around her neck to keep her there, kissing him.

With his free hand, he grabs her hip, and begins to fuck up into her, enjoying her moaning into his mouth as she pushes back against him, her breasts pressed against his sweaty chest.

He comes hard, a strangled moan escaping him, and he grips her to him, hips jerking, the sound of her final moans in his ear.

They stay there for a while, a sweaty pile of bodies, before she rolls off of him. He’s struck immediately by the chillness of the room, without her warmth on top of him. But she doesn’t move far, settles beside him.

He hates her. He wants to hate her. He _should_. He was raised to. Taught to. This should all be a terrible mistake; one he wouldn’t be repeating.

And yet.

And yet, when her hand snakes across his chest, finds his own hand there, and she curls her fingers round his, he feels his chest lighten, his breath soften. He rubs a thumb across her palm, resists the urge to kiss across the callouses there. Instead, he confines himself to the pleasure of her warmth, the sounds of her breathing, soft but still somewhat ragged.

He tries not to crumble under her gentle kisses along the places she bit, before she rests her head in the crook of his shoulder. He fails to stop himself resting his free hand on her waist, fingers playing along the small dip there. Her skin is warm and soft.

“Was that okay?” she asks quietly. Her speech is slightly slurred; she’s starting to fall asleep, he realizes.

“Yes,” he whispers back. It’s the least he can say. “For you?”

“Yes,” she says, nuzzling her face into his neck, giving him a lazy kiss.

One of his rules is that he can’t fall asleep next to her. That would be too much like something a couple does. Too close to those sticky emotions he’s trying to desperately claw himself away from.

But as her breathing slows, he finds it difficult to want to move.

Just this once, he tells himself, and prays that it’s true.


End file.
